


Don't Forget my Name

by monsterradio



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A really bad use of D&D stuff, Elf Steve Rogers, M/M, Peggy is a unicorn, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve is a very short high elf, hunter bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-18 19:38:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13107129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterradio/pseuds/monsterradio
Summary: The world forgot his name, but a new one learned it.AKA: the Elf and Human/Hunter fic no one asked for.





	1. The Trees Can Speak

  
The trees can speak.

 

You can hear them sometimes, if you’re careful and quiet as a mouse, singing with the wind and the sky. They sing with every leaf and every branch and every twig. They sing of storms and sunlit days, of things they’ve seen or heard. They sing of the sorrows of loss, of a woodcutter felling a friend or a hunter slaying a beast of their field. They sing of joy, of birth and a milestone reached; a bird taking its first flight, or a mouse opening its eyes for the very first time.

 

The fae of the forests speak with them too, their voices beautiful and chilling over the trembling leaves. Some sing with voices as soft as the wingbeat of an owl. Some speak with voices of thunder, that shake the very ground and make mountains crumble.

 

It’s wonderful to sit and listen as the very forest plays a symphony with its many parts, sings with a chorus of many voices, speaks to you and tries to tell you its tale if you can hear what they say.

 

You can see the creatures too; if you’re careful and you carry no weapon. See the fairies dart to help the bees, see the nymphs hiding within their mother tree, sneaking glimpses of passersby, and giggling like they have a secret to tell. Elves are curious, satyrs cautious and normally armed, unicorns and the odd dwarf will be seen in very quick passing if they have places to be and it cannot wait.

 

There is a hunter that comes through the forest, wielding a bow and quiver and a knife. He makes no shot, and takes no life but once a moon, but is seen nearly every day, when the sun is at its highest. He follows the shimmering river along its winds, carefully jumps the exposed stones and the fairies there splash at his worn deer leather boots and he laughs. He leaves his weapons across the stream, unneeded and uncomfortable, the world around him fragile and lovely and it likes him and he would hate to destroy any part of it.

 

There’s a willow he sits at, an island all of his own when he comes to enjoy the shadows that sway before him as the wind makes them dance. He bears the mark of an Elven Kiss, under the leather of his vest and the soft fabric of his long sleeve shirt that billows at his arms. He shows the sign of the gentle spell put upon him, his eyes distant and he no longer notices the way the forest opens to him or allows him access to such a sacred place.

 

There’s a laugh above him and the hunter gazes into the ever-shifting branches and his smile is as bright and shining as the sun and the moon and all the stars combined. Down through the thin branches slides an elf draped in a covering as transparent as fairy’s wing, that’s gathered at his hip, the folds and pleats doing nothing to hide his body.

 

He is thin and beautiful, ears long and pointed, a ringlet of thin woven wood and gilded leaves sit atop his shaggy blond hair brushing his forehead and framing his face as he lands nimbly in the hunter’s lap. It’s a stark contrast, the pale skin and fragile bones next to a tanned, square face and muscles from a life of a hunter, but they never seem to mind.

 

“You came,” says the hunter, always in awe of the creature sitting on him.

 

“I always do,” replies the elf, voice much deeper than one would think that would come from the thin creature.

 

“You always do,” echoes the hunter, eyes bright, but slightly glassy, hands resting on slim thighs.

 

Nimble fingers dance along the string lacing on his hunter’s vest, blue eyes wide and pleading, “Run away with me?”

 

“One day, I’ll return, when the skies cry for me,” is his answer, always the same, “and I will follow where you lead me.” And he presses his lips just below where the elf’s crown settles on his forehead.

 

“Your world has nearly forgotten you, James, why do you stay?”

 

“My Steve,” murmurs the hunter, “my precious prince, my family still needs me. Please understand, it is the only reason I leave you.”

 

And Steve does understand, and only presses his lips against James’ skin and wishes he could stay. It’s a conversation they have on the regular, for James’ sister is gravely ill, and is beyond healing. He even convinced Steve to bring one of his tribe’s healers to see if they could save her, but with no luck. She was growing weaker by the day, and now he simply awaits her passing.

 

Until that day, he spends his time in the forest, he makes sure that Lady Death has not taken her in the morning, sets a plate for her when she awakes, and travels to his willow and meets his Prince. Steve begs him to run with him, to stay with him, and James tells him he must wait for Lady Death.


	2. Chapter 2

Then one day, the sky cracks with lightning and thunder shatters the silence with a roar of pain, and rain falls to the earth in droves. The trees tremble with the force of it, the sorrow, it’s almost painful to hear.

 

Steve is already there when James trudges gracelessly through the trees, face wet with tears and rain, eyes dark and sunken. Steve’s expression is saddened for his lover, but regally so, a polite sadness there. He knew it was coming, they both did, but Steve knew how much James’ sister meant to him. His last remaining family. Now the world of the ordinary, where he could convince himself he was supposed to be hunting for deer and not running away to the only bit of comfort he could find, where he sat by his sister’s bedside and sang her songs he learned from Steve’s world, in mispronounced Elvish, and off beats, now there was nothing there for him anymore. He made no real connections in the world, no friends that would miss him. The world he left behind, it forgot his name entirely, and James didn’t care. 

 

His Elvish kiss brought him back to Steve, just like it did every day. It was the key to the forest and its creatures, its wonder, and magic, his key to the world Steve knew. He wanted to be a part of it, and now he could be. With the loss of his beloved sister, he gains a new family, one of pointed ears he will never possess, one of magic and beauty.

 

Steve encircles James within his arms, and they sink to the ground together, within the comfort of the willow’s roots and hidden by her branches and James cries. He cries and cries and cries until the storm slows, the thunder is distant and skies fade to light grey instead of stormy black.

 

“Lady Death has claimed her in her sleep,” whispers James, broken and tired, then his fingers curl into the fairy’s wing cover he wears, and he curls himself into Steve’s thin chest, “Take me home, Steve.”

 

So Steve does. 

 

They rise to their feet, over the stream that is now a good few inches higher and angrier than it had been, and Steve links their arms and leads him further into the forest he calls home. 

 

The further they go, the more lively, the trees are dancing with their sorrow for their new friend, shivering in the rain, there are creatures that come closer, fairies whose wings can survive the rain are drifting about, giving the illusion of fireflies that dance in the air. They’re careful to move aside and give a bow to the Elven Prince, before continuing their lazy drifting. 

 

James, when not looking at the floor, watches a mottled brown and white unicorn bow, front leg bent up as she dips her head, long twisting horn touching the ground before the pair and Steve gives pause, hand held out to her. She stands tall, lightly curled, brown mane falling in her face over her ears as she dips her nose into his palm and he gives her a light scratch. 

 

“She is no longer afraid of you, ” Steve says softly, and the unicorn’s ears flicker, tail whipping behind her, “You are her brother now, and she mourns for your loss.” Steve turns his head and looks up at James with a small smile, and takes his hand, holds it out like he had his own palm. The unicorn knickers softly, the sound like chiming bells in a church, and presses her nose against James’ palm.

 

“Thank you,” says the human, and a name appears in his head, “Margaret?” His brows knit slightly, head tilted at the pretty creature with a sharp white star on her brown face and her white nose and Steve giggles quietly.

 

“She prefers Peggy,” says Steve, “But yes.”

 

James steps closer, and rests his forehead against hers, just under her horn, in a gentle gesture, before Steve beckoned him. He said goodbye, and let Steve lead him again and the sky is still grey as they approach a high archway of carved stone. 

 

Willow trees stood guard beside the mossy stone, tall and regal, draping reedy branches down to brush the forest floor. Steve lead James past the archway and James took a look around, surprised that all he really saw was a wide wooden bridge that leads up to a group of beautiful oaks. Carved branches wrapped around the broad trunks, structured into sturdy bases for well built wooden houses with broad arches that are lit with a bright yellow light. There were holes carved into the tree trunks as well, glowing brightly from the inside, shadows of passing figures.

 

Figures move between the houses, both big and small and in varying actions. Some are reading as they walk, others speaking to friends and laughing. Steve simply holds James’ arm and leads him up the ramp and through the structures, the figures there, Sylvan, wood elves, and High elves, each clad in different coverings, but none so fragile and lovely as Steve’s.

 

The trees were home to many different Elvish folk, including the dark elves, though, mostly antisocial and anti-everything, they lived mostly under the roots of these glorious trees. Wood elves helped with hunting, making sure every animal slain was given a proper prayer and every piece used. They lived in deerskin tents around the bases of the trees. They are left alone, normally, by the elves in the trees, beyond their friends, and are happy to live and hunt and provide should it be asked of them. High elves made up most of the court, including Steve’s father, Lord Joseph, and were common in the realm. The ones not in the direct royal lineage, are mostly archers, they pace their watchtowers on the far oak branches, bare feet nimble on the wood.

 

Though he’s never seen them, Steve has told him of the Grey-elves who live further in, who have small temples of stone that they thrive in, rarely coming to mingle with the other creatures that dwell within the Sacred Veil, believing them higher than even the lord and his only son. There’s also the sea elves that lived in the waters that bordered the far eastern treeline. The magic creatures of the forest wander in and out through the gates, unafraid and curious of the creatures living there, and the halflings who have no place in the mortal world stay because they have nowhere else to go.

  
James feels he belongs here with Steve by his side.   



	3. Chapter 3

James has only seen parts of Steve’s world, his realm of magic and beauty, of tranquility and true peace. The Veil has not ever seen war beyond the wars they’ve seen the humans have, but they do not fight, they have no need to. The parts he’s seen were the healer’s hut and the garden and pond in the very center, settled before the elaborate castle in the trees. High Elf archers stand guard on balconies, it’s not like they ever truly need them, however, Lord Joseph was a paranoid fellow, while the more tolerant Grey Elves mingle and speak of magic and lessons with the young High Elves.

Steve pauses at the grand wooden doors and there’s a moment of breath before they shift and push inward, allowing the pair entrance.

“Ah, Steven, I was wondering when you would come home,” says Lord Joseph, looking up from a scroll being presented to him by a fellow elf.

Both of them were tall and thin, pale in color and blond just like Steve was, shining bright eyes watching the prince and his companion. They wore intricate tunics of deerskin, though the Lord’s was much more colorful and bright, the color of living moss. Definitely more modest than Steve, James thought with a smile.

Joseph eyes James for a moment, “And you brought your human along, too.”

“His world has forgotten his name,” says Steve softly, and the sound of distant thunder rumbled just loud enough for them to hear, “He bears my Kiss and I wish him to be my forever.”

“It has forgotten his name, hm?” Joseph echoes softly and turns to the woman beside him, “Thank you, Angie,” he says as he waves her away. She bows, turns, and strides from the room and through an archway that leads to another bridge.

“My sister was claimed by the Lady Death early this morning,” confirms James, and his voice only shakes once. Steve's hand tightens around his arm.

Nimble fingers cup a sharp chin, scratching lightly at the skin there, “I see, your name is Jamie, right?”

“James,” he corrects, “but, she used to call me Bucky.”

“Is that a name you prefer?”

There's a pause, and a glance to Steve,  before he answers, “Yes.”

“Then, Bucky,” it's actually kind of funny coming from a voice so regal, so James’ lips twitch up, “We do not often trust humans; They are a brutish species, who destroy our forests, but, my son speaks highly of you, he cares for you greatly.”

“He must, if he wishes to marry a human,” says another voice, a haughty and sort of nasally tone, belonging to a Grey as he strides in, looking at James as of he was a particularly disgusting bug, “it is normally against our laws to marry one outside of Elvish kind. If you were outside of the Veil, it would be different, you would follow human customs.”

“What, Pierce is trying to say is, that it is normally against our customs to bring in an outsider,” Joseph interrupts because Steve’s expression has twisted into something like pain at the thought of not having James with him.

“Yes, sir, I know,” says Bucky and there is a frown as he adds, “Steve told me of your laws.”

“Father, I vouch for him. I trust him with everything I am. It is why I’ve brought him.”

Joseph offers a smile, “I know, and you are not the first to bring a human into the Veil. Not the first in my lifetime, at least.”

“And you have had a long lifetime,” says the Grey.

“And he certainly won’t be the last,” finishes Joseph himself.

“How are we supposed to keep Elves as a pure race if we keep allowing humans in?” Pierce snaps, “How did he even get through the perception spell?”

“You have known about Bucky for a year now, and you decide to ask that now?” Steve raises his eyebrow at the pretentious elf.

“I’ve been curious myself, actually,” Lord Joseph nods, then fixes his sharp blue eyes on the brunet, “Bucky, how did you come through our illusion, if you met Steve after you passed through the Veil’s magic?”

“I have a feeling for magic,” Bucky admits, “I, I can’t use it, or I would have used it to heal my sister instead of calling upon your healers, but I can feel when magic is around me. The burned forest is a good enough illusion for those who prefer to believe there’s nothing more to their world, but I felt there was something more powerful. It, led me here, actually. It led me to Steve.”

 

_Bucky remembers very clearly when he bought the cabin that he and his sister stayed in while she lived her last days. The town below the hill had warned him of the haunted forest, the perpetually smoking, scorch of forest that had been from a forest fire that had been out for years, but always smoked. It was like it was a warning to stay clear, but Bucky did not heed their lore and rumors, and traveled up the hill and moved in their small amount of belongings he had kept._

_He would set her up in her new room, made sure she had water, breakfast, and lunch set for her, and would explore. Until he came to the very edge of the scarred trees. There was a very clean line between lush forest and the bare bones of tree trunks and burned earth, too clean, he believed. He stepped over the border and was instantly met with lush trees, far too beautiful and mystic to be normal. He wandered in for a while before he lost his way, trying to find his way back home to check his sister since the sun was hanging low in the sky before Steve came along._

_Steve was beautiful the first time they met, draped in his fairy’s wing dress, unafraid when the hunter aimed his notched arrow at his nose. Steve asked for his name and why he was there, how he was there, and James admitted that he didn’t know, that he felt something calling him here. Steve had smiled, took his hand, and lead him back to the border._   
  
_“Can I see you again?” Bucky had blurted out once there._   
  
_And Steve had smiled, leaned up to press his lips against James’ cheek and said, “Perhaps, and maybe, you can stay with me, should the world ever forget your name.”_   
  
_“What on earth does that mean?”_   
_  
Steve had giggled, “I’ll tell you when you return,” he promised._

  
  
Steve nudged his side and Bucky jumped slightly, glances to him, then to the two elves on the raised dais. His face flushed red and he bit his lip.   
  
“My apologies, I got lost in my head,” he said softly.   
  
“You just lost your family, it is understandable,” said Joseph with a smile of someone who knows the feeling, “Now, as I was saying, is it normally against our customs, but since Steven has insisted that he is ready to leave the Veil should I not allow the bond, there is not much I can do but allow it.”   
  
Pierce looks angry, hands shaking by his side with a quiet rage he cannot voice, and Steve glances over at him with a very smug smile. Bucky thinks this must be a common thing here.   
  
Steve leaves his side and runs to his father, nimble little feet bounding up the stairs, and wraps his arms around his neck and Joseph grunts softly before placing his hand on his prince’s back and murmuring quietly, too soft for James to hear.   
  
Steve returns to Bucky’s side, links their arms and gives him a broad smile as he leads him through the archway and out the door and they climb the spiral bridge that winds around the tree trunk.

There’s a smaller wooden house, circular shaped and just inside the single door, it is draped in fabric from the single highest point in the ceiling, expensive silks of alternating red, white, and blue attached with thin rope to create a colorful starburst canopy. Lights shine through the draped fabric, bright and lovely, tossing colors like the sun through a stained glass window onto the floor and the extravagant bed there in the middle. It was beautiful, really, fit for an elf of his ranking. 

Gingerly, Bucky’s rough life worn fingers lifted the circlet from his Prince’s head and set it aside on a small table littered with scrolls and an oil lamp with a small flame burning happily away at the wick, the lip of the glass shield black with the rising smoke. It wasn't needed, not really, it was still early afternoon’s light outside, and the light from the ceiling and the nearby houses are bright enough to drown out the simple flame.   
  
Without his crown, Steve was still beautiful, soft blond hair crimped from the press of the softly woven wood, his eyes bright as the sky should be if it weren't such a sad day. They look upon James with an adoration, a love there that Bucky had no idea how to handle, that be believed he didn’t deserve. This beautiful creature full of magic and mystery, of a fabulous and legendary heritage, of a species known for their elegance and beauty, loved him, and it baffled him, made him wish he could ask his sister what she thought was best. If she thought he was doing the right thing.   
  
Steve’s fingers were gentle across his face as James tilted his face down, eyes red with new tears, his heart burdened. He was happy, partly, he was with Steve, in the Sacred Veil, something he had been promising Steve for a while now, for him to stay, but it saddened him to think that he finally would be staying, that his sister was gone and his world forgot him.   
  
Steve had once explained to him, that names held a power, they were sacred to the Elvish culture and to know one’s name was a great sign of respect. A preferred name was important as well, it meant just the same, less a power, but still enough. To forget a name on purpose was a great insult, near the highest one, so the Elves had a fair memory as far as the people in their lives. they had an amazing memory anyway, all things considered, and Bucky had guessed as much when Steve had mentioned once about him being around during World War Two.

For James, near the whole world forgot his name, though it wasn’t on purpose. All it meant was that his family was gone, he had no one left. No parents, No siblings. He was sure he had cousins somewhere, but he didn’t care much for them, didn’t know them and didn’t care enough to get to know them. After his sister was claimed by the Lady Death, all he had was Steve. Steve was all he wanted.


End file.
